


improving relations

by sundrymunity



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Character Study, End of game spoilers, Gen, Time Loop, very minor points of akeshu but it's literally nothing big don't even Worry about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundrymunity/pseuds/sundrymunity
Summary: in an effort to become friendlier with the phantom thieves, goro akechi decides to spend time with each of them in turnthis may or may not be a mistake on his part.





	1. haru okumura

It isn’t that Goro never understood the appeal of gardening, it’s just that... it wasn’t particularly _useful_  in creating the image he wanted for himself, not to mention it was rather time-consuming _and_ the one time he’d tried to take care of a plant it ended up drying up with neglect in his window.

When Haru asked if he’d like to look in on a secret project she and Akira had been working on together, he finds it almost impossible to refuse; though a lady in every sense of the word, she wasn’t as delicate as her appearance would make her out to be, and Goro found himself agreeing to it once she’d mentioned that it wasn’t a problem if he didn’t have prior experience. All that really mattered were the feelings behind it.

“They’re coffee plants,” she explains as she tugs on her gardening gloves. Goro recalls that a lot of the vegetables Akira comes around with are donated by Haru and wonders if she does flowers too, or if she’s solely produce-based. “I’m trying to create a roast that has its own special flavor, the way Leblanc’s coffee does.”  


He follows her motions, pocketing his black gloves in favor of these white ones, and kneels down to inspect the plants. They... look well-tended to, he supposes, though he doesn’t know much about plants. “Are you planning on opening a shop as well?”

“Oh!” Apparently, he’d guessed her next words; Haru nods, a small blush darkening her cheeks. “Yes, I am. Would you like to try some, Akechi-kun?”  


“I’d be delighted, Haru-san,” he replies, smile turning a bit cheeky. “I think I can safely say that I’ve become quite the coffee aficionado after visiting Leblanc so often.”  


“Please, you don’t need to be so formal with me.” He makes a mental note to change it to Haru- _chan_ , then. “It’s wonderful though, isn’t it? I always feel so relaxed there... Especially when it’s raining.”  


There’s nothing quite like a hot cup of coffee with the rain pattering outside, Goro can agree with that, and relaxing...

“Truthfully,” he begins, a bit after she’s showed him how to correctly move pots, “I’d go there even if the coffee wasn’t as good as it was.”  


Haru smiles lightly, brushing the dirt off of her gloves. “Leblanc is a place that treats every person the same. Is that right?”

“That’s exactly it.” Goro feels himself smiling truly, resting back on his heels once his row is complete. When Haru mentions that she hopes her cafe is the same way -- a place that’s open to others and opens their hearts in return -- he laughs gently, surprised at the light feeling in his chest. “Pardon me -- I think that’s a wonderful dream, Haru-chan, and something that you’ll be able to pull off with no trouble at all.”  


“Akira-kun thinks so as well.” The pink’s returned, he notes. “There’s still very much for me to learn, but I’ve set my sights on it.”  


He watches her a moment, the breeze pulling gently through her fluffy hair, and looks back at the plants she put her heart into growing. They’re appropriately tall, he can figure that much, and there’s not a dead leaf on them. Pruned to perfection. Now that he’s really looking at them... even someone like him can tell they’ve been treated with all the care in the world, that no matter how inexperienced the brew might be it’ll be a wonderful cup of coffee, warm and full. Not quite Leblanc’s, but there’s no need to compare; Haru’s will have a taste all its own, and Goro finds his tone sincere with his words.

“When you open that cafe of yours, Haru-chan, I’d like very much to be a patron of yours as well.”  


Her smile widens and she bows her head slightly. “Thank you, Akechi-kun, that really does mean a lot to me.” And maybe it does, but he doesn’t know for certain; until recently, they _had_  been on opposing sides. “Akira-kun’s going to be my first customer... so maybe you could be my second?”

“It would be my pleasure.” It would figure that Akira was first, though, and not _just_  because he’s Sojiro’s apprentice in coffee-making.

“Say, Akechi-kun... do you have a dream too?”  


A dream, huh. Something like her own. Goro gives it a thoughtful pause despite his mind coming up completely blank, laughing sheepishly. “Nothing quite like yours, I’m afraid.” Which is true. And it isn’t quite a dream if he’s going to make it come true, anyway, with victory so close. “Though I do plan on continuing into college, I’m not entirely sure what I’ll be doing there. Being a detective _has_  been worthwhile, but once I graduate it won’t be anything news worthy. One can miss that treatment.”

“I think I’d like the media off of me, if I were you.” Haru’s sympathy stings something in him and he tilts his head for her to continue. “It seems so... restricting. I didn’t get to experience the spotlight the way the others did, but I can’t imagine it’s any more pleasant than the light that _did_  get shown on us after my father... died.”  


It’s softer at the end. Goro had known about the intricacies of the Okumura situation, of course, and to hear that Haru still missed her father despite it all...

It’s not something he truly understands, he supposes.

“... It _can_ be restrictive, yes,” he admits, playing with some of his hair idly. “But it’s also nice, in a way. I’m certain the others would know what I mean when I say that; having everyone’s eyes on you can be as wonderful as it is stressful, depending on public opinion of course.”  


Which she’s experienced enough of, between being covered as Haru Okumura, sole heir of Okumura Foods, and as a Phantom Thief.

Goro stands, holding out his hand to Haru to help her up too; she accepts. “But that’s why I like Leblanc, and why I look forward to your dream coming true as well -- Boss doesn’t treat me as anyone important, despite knowing who I am, and it’s a little relieving that you all more or less do the same. I feel as if I can be myself around you all.”

To an extent, in any case, under the pretense of working together with ulterior motives lying beneath. There’s no bond that forms between them, heart not warming the odd way it had when first meeting Akira, but Goro doesn’t think hard on it.

Haru seems to pause a moment, maybe not so odd usually but... it _feels_  odd, just a bit off, but he doesn’t get to ask about it as she smiles. “I’m glad you feel that way, Akechi-kun. Though some of us may not be as friendly towards you, we _are_  all happy to have you on our side... even if it is under disadvantageous circumstances.”

“I’ve enjoyed fighting alongside you all as well, but I truly did not think you would accept me any other way.” It was his best bet to join them, using blackmail. “Once this is settled, I’d be more than happy to hang out with you all as a friend, if you’ll have me.”  


“I’m certain that won’t be a problem.”  


... It’s oddly nice to hear that, if he’s honest with himself for a brief moment, but he brushes it aside; he isn’t here to make friends with the Phantom Thieves, just get rid of them.

“Then I look forward to it. Now, shall we make some coffee? I want to see how your efforts have come out, Haru-chan.”  


“It would be my pleasure!”  


(It won’t ever come close to Leblanc’s, no, but it really isn't meant to be compared; it’s determined and rich in character as Haru Okumura is, superb in craftsmanship and dedication. He can really tell she’s put her all into this and he wonders, very briefly, if he’s put half as much love into any hobby himself.

Goro shakes off the thought. It’s only coffee, in the end.)


	2. ryuji sakamoto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you lift bro?"
> 
> "not only do i lift, bro, i do it while looking inappropriately good"
> 
> "cool bro"
> 
> \-- actual conversation between ryuji and goro, probably

Inokashira Park, while not a place Goro usually finds interesting stories and topics to talk about with the adults around him, is a wonderful place for leisurely cycling. It's peaceful and relaxing. A place for mostly couples, he realizes, yet little elsewhere had he found such quiet to simply _be_ in.

(Besides Leblanc, though he's still trying to convince himself that it's simply another workplace.)

"Holy _shit_ ," deadpans a voice all-too-familiar, " _you_ are the last person I wanted to see here."

Goro flicks some hair out of his face, smile widening at the sight of Ryuji Sakamoto with beads of sweat running down his slightly scowling face. "Hello to you too, Sakamoto-kun. Enjoying a run?"

"I was, until I ran into you." But he's not moving on so quick, which Goro thinks is a good thing. He doesn't particularly care if all of them like him, just that they trust him enough. And Ryuji's definitely one person who won't like him no matter what; Goro knows for a fact that their personalities just don't mesh well, and that Ryuji thinks he's no better than some of the adults around. The other teen wipes his face off with the bottom of his shirt and narrows his eyes at Goro. "What's with the bike?"

"Oh, just a hobby of mine. Cycling allows me to clear my thoughts, particularly when I'm working on a case." Goro pauses, resting forward on the bike's handles. "And I enjoy it by itself as well. I understand you used to run track?" He doesn't miss the stiffness Ryuji's body responds with. "I _did_ do a thorough check on all of you while I had my suspicions, you know. Are you planning on returning?"

Because track, like cycling, can be something one does purely on their own -- purely with their own skill, and Goro enjoys that about his own hobby. He'd never make anything serious out of it (it'd take up too much time, there _is_ a team element to it that he's not wholly comfortable with) but it's one of the few exercises he can fit into his schedule, that works in his favor in a number of ways. Pounding pavement didn't have as much leeway.

"... Nah," he finally answers, not so put-out as he is tired from the running he'd been doing, and the detective tilts his head lightly; why not? "I like runnin' and all, sure, but it ain't where I'm meant to be."

It's an answer that surprises Goro, frankly, and he sits up. "What do you mean?"

"Like hell I'm tellin' you!" It's an immediate response paired well with telltale signs of embarrassment a la Ryuji: face flushing, glaring with a slight hunch (defensive, for certain), and Goro's smile widens just a bit.

That says a lot, in his opinion.

"Nevermind then, Sakamoto-kun."

The sudden backing off seems to have made him even warier, and Goro likens Ryuji to a dog; he certainly acted like one, ferocious on the outside and sweeter on his friends, loyal to a fault.

Goro was never much of a dog person.

"You're gonna give up on it just like that?"

"Do you want me to ask after it?"

A long pause. Ryuji's face has returned to its normal shade and he glances at Goro's bike again, then away as if remembering something. Finally, he sighs and rubs the back of his head. "Listen, Akechi. I don't like you, and I don't care _how_ you act when Akira's around," which makes Goro's smile falter, _excuse him?_ , "but I know you don't like me either. That's _perfectly_ fine with me, honestly, couldn't care less how you feel.

" _But_ ," he continues, reluctant the way a normal child might be to do anything, "right now, we're on the same side. And it ain't gonna kill either of us to hang out or whatever."

At that very moment, Goro has the feeling a certain _meddling teen_ has been talking behind his back. Akira hasn't learned to keep his nose out of other people's business, has he. _It'll be the death of him someday,_ the idle thought crosses his mind and he waves it off, the smile he has coming surprisingly easy with his reply. "Would you mind being my company, then? I'd like to ride through the rest of the park, and I'm sure you wouldn't mind having a partner either."

"Are you kidding?! Akira's been slackin' on training with me ever since he started playin' shogi with some girl at church. Says that his mind's more worn out than his body, and they mess with each other or somethin' like that." Ryuji's definitely put-out at being on the back burner and Goro laughs a bit, waving off the slightly-pissed look he gets in reply.

"Oh, I'm not laughing at you, Sakamoto-kun, I agree! He shouldn't be playing around considering what's at stake with our own mission, much less denying his own friends some free time." Goro never asks after it himself, since he sees the curly mess as often as he does behind Leblanc's counter. "Training together sounds like a good enough excuse for us to get along, wouldn't you say? We'll show him up the next time we fight."

Ryuji shrugs, grinning lightly. "Yeah, sure, sounds good to me. Just don't think this makes us friends."

"I wouldn't dream of presuming," Goro replies, and he thinks that's the end of that.

 

It would turn out, unfortunately, that it wasn't.

Ryuji's stretching to rest his heart rate, a practice Goro really should follow instead of simply watching him from beneath a tree, when the other teen pipes up an answer to a long-forgotten question with so much casualty, Goro wonders for a brief moment if the other's comment about them not being friends might've been wrong. "My place is with the Phantom Thieves."

He can only be so open because there's no one else around, Goro suspects, and pulls his knees to his chest. Rests his chin on them. "... That doesn't seem as embarrassing as I thought it'd be."

"Yeah, well-- I mean, even without the whole _deal_ you're forcing onto us, my place is with them." A lull. It'd pleasant if prickles of envy weren't prying at Goro's mood. "I ain't gonna abandon a friend no matter what."

"... And what if they chose to abandon you first?" Goro's not sure why he asks the question, as off as he'd felt with Haru's inquiry into his dreams. "Would you still chase them?"

"Sure. I gotta kick their ass, you know? Find out why." Ryuji touches his toes and then rolls forward, sprawling out with a groan. The breeze coming off the lake on this side is a nice one, cools Goro's edge a bit, smooths over his thoughts until the other speaks again. "I decided to stop abandoning people anyway. Just because _they're_ gonna do it doesn't mean I've gotta, you know? Ain't like I'm gonna chase them forever or anything like that, but... if I can do something to help them and they need it, I'm gonna give it all I've got."

So it'd been a conscious choice at some point, to abandon those that did it to him first. Goro watches him with a smile that's easier to look at than it is to do and tucks in more, eyes casting downward and bitten lip hidden behind his knees, irritated. What an _idiot_. Who'd taught him that? Akira? That guy was a bigger fool than Goro thought him to be, then, if they were both under the impression that they could just _ask_ for a reason they were abandoned, that they deserved it. And what kind of talk was that last part? _If I can do something to help them and they need it, I'm gonna give it all I've got_?

_Pitiful,_ he thinks.

"You're a surprisingly kind person, aren't you Sakamoto-kun?" He says instead, propping his chin up on his knees again with a smile. "And such wise words at your age... I have to admit, I'm surprised. Most adults haven't learned that either."

Because they know better. Because if someone abandons you, you don't watch their back _you take a knife to it_ , metaphorically speaking. You make them hurt the way you do, or you simply forget about them. Why would _anyone_ help someone that betrays them like that?

"Ahhh, shut up, I don't wanna hear that from some wannabee adult like you."

"Wannabee--"

"You heard me! Come on, talk about something _normal_ guys our age talk about, because you might be bad but you'll _never_ top Yusuke."

Laughter springs out without Goro's call for it and he rests his head back against the tree once it's done, humming as he bites the inside of his cheek. "Something normal, huh? Well... I'm afraid you'll have to start us off, Sakamoto--"

"Just-- call me Ryuji, alright? Hearin' my last name keeps makin' me think of school, and that's the _last_ thing I wanna think about."

"Alright then Saka-- Ryuji-kun," he corrects himself, an odd feeling similar to when Haru not to be so formal with her welling up inside; he pushes it away sternly. "If you would do the honors, I'd be happy to give my thoughts on any 'normal' topic that comes to mind."

It's a mistake, a _rookie mistake_ , to let Ryuji choose the conversations, but Goro _does_ learn a lot... even if it was about trivial things he couldn't care less about, from Ryuji's type to his own, the sort of manga that's been getting good or were a total letdown lately, and for a little while it feels almost like the comfort of Leblanc, a small time and place where he sheds off his detective face and talks a little more casually. It's not as if Ryuji's anyone he really needs to mind his manners around, in the end, and...

... Well, he's trying to get in good with all of them, isn't he? Acting the parts he should is all part of that. Whether he enjoys it or not isn't a question he thinks about or even _wants_ to, yet Goro still finds himself picking up the starting volume of a manga Ryuji had mentioned might be his jam on his way home.

It wouldn't hurt to see if he was right or not, anyway, and if he was... well, that just meant that Goro had some new reading material, that's all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who read, enjoyed, and _especially_ commented last chapter! i really wanted to do ryuji next since i had a skeleton in mind, and it was just as fun as i thought it'd be to fill out /o/ look forward to the next!


	3. ann takamaki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's that cliche where two people pretend to be dating to get the couple's special at a café because they both like sweets
> 
> it actually goes really well

"I know, I know, I _really_ shouldn't be wasting time like this, since we still have to find the route to the Treasure..." Ann claps her hands and bows a bit, determination clear in her voice. "But there's a special going on at the café I like and the new desserts they have on the menu are for _couples only_."

It takes three ticks of the clock in Leblanc for Goro to understand what she's getting at, one green eye peering up at him hopefully. It takes one more to remember that he should answer, glancing aside at the counter where Akira's leaning with a smile tucked behind his knuckles, amused.

Meddling thief.

"While I enjoy sweets, Takamaki-san--"

"Oh, just call me Ann! We're around the same age, you don't need to be formal."

He pauses, shaking his head. "Ann-chan, then, I suppose..." Which feels weird, but alright. "While I _do_ have a sweet tooth, wouldn't it be better to ask your boyfriend?"

"I _would_ , if I _had_ one." She rolls her eyes after the put-out statement, standing straight with her hands on her hips and smiling widely. Friendly. "I'd ask one of the other guys, but Akira's booked for today, Ryuji wouldn't do it anyway, and Yusuke's... Well, _he_ might actually enjoy it as much as I'm planning to, but he's not that great for actual conversation. So? How about it?"

"It's a really nice place," Akira pipes up, and Goro feels his ability to deny Ann's request dwindle. Better to play with them and earn their trust. Their temporary friendship.

"Well, I suppose if even Kurusu-kun's pressing me to accept, then I--"

"Great! Let's get going, it only last until five today and we won't have time to try all of the new desserts if we don't leave _right now_."

Akira bids them a safe trip as Ann drags Goro out by the arm, tone edging on entertained by the spectacle, and he seethes inwardly at being pulled along like this. It doesn't even feel like he had a choice in the matter, like it was always going to happen.

 

At least the café is cute. Ann's acting is a little stilted when she mentions they're wanting a table together -- and the couple's menu -- but the waitress accepts it easily enough, though she seems to find it hard to hide the jealously she feels once Ann's turned away.

Goro smiles politely at the waitress, wrapping an arm firmly around Ann's waist, and leads her the table they'd been directed to; she jumps a little at the touch and he considers it payback for earlier. "You're really taking this role seriously, huh?"

"We have to make it as believable as possible, right? I don't know much about dating, but I know enough to get by."

Ann waits until she's sitting across from him, teacup on a saucer, to express her disbelief. " _You've_ never dated?"

"For a variety of reasons, yes," he replies, sipping at his own. It doesn't match up to Leblanc's in the slightest, doesn't have the atmosphere for anything but a couple's joint, but it isn't a bad brew. "It must sound beyond unbelievable if you're asking like that."

"Sorry, I just... I don't know. I kinda expected you to have at least _one_ girlfriend in the past. I'm pretty sure even _Ryuji_ got lucky once."

Back on the track team, Goro thinks idly, and wonders if Akira's dated in the past. That hidden boldness of his would charm anyone he set his sights on.

"... I didn't have much of a chance to get acquainted with anyone, much less look into a relationship with them," he replies after a moment, eyes mirroring practiced sorrow at him from the brown coffee. He doesn't really care, it's not anything that's going to matter in the long-run, but playing cards right is all part of the program. "I suppose you could say I moved around a lot, and when I finally settled in a place of my own... at that point, I'd started becoming known as a remarkable detective." Absently, he messes with some of his bangs. "After that, I couldn't see anyone even if I wanted to. My fans would be furious if they thought I was in a relationship with someone."

"I guess this is more trouble for you than it is for me then, huh..." Ann leans forward on the table, resting on her elbows. "... It might sound a little weird, but I get it."

It is weird, it drags his gaze straight to her, a surprised noise his response. She leans back the next moment and he feels her feet brush past him lightly as she readjusts the way she's sitting, ankles crossed.

"For a while, my family moved around a bunch, so I didn't really get to make friends. It was hard to adjust to Tokyo too, when we settled here... A lot of people kept away from me, calling me 'foreigner' and all that. It was pretty rough!" But she's smiling, a little reminiscent of his own mask to hide some ache of pain, and Goro feels _uncomfortable_. "I'm used to my parents being away now -- they're fashion designers, so they go from country to country these days -- but I hated it when I was younger. When I met Shiho... everything changed."

Shiho... Suzui, if he remembered right. The Shujin student who seemed to be the trigger for the Phantom Thieves's activities. He nods for her to continue, and she seems about to when the waitress rolls over a cart _full_ of sweets, distracting them both and lightening the air immediately.

"Oooh, these look _delicious_!" Ann half-squeals, giggling as she digs into the cake piece set in front of her; a sigh follows and Goro chuckles lightly, his fork cutting into the cheesecake he'd chosen to start with easily. It melts in his mouth, rich enough to cause a similar sounding sigh in response, and the girl sitting across from him laughs. " _Totally_ worth it, right?"

"Definitely," he agrees, the discomfort from before dissipating with each bite.

... It's bothering him, though. Why did one person change everything? How? Goro doesn't understand; in that situation, it would've been better just to close off and accept that people were going to think of you a certain way, change yourself to change their opinions. Why would making a _friend_ matter any?

So eventually, once topics pass through their respective lines of part-time work and the quality of each decadent sweet they share, Goro pushes aside the prickling feelings and asks about Shiho.

"Oh, right, we got interrupted, huh?" Ann chews on her fork, thinking back to the conversation, and shakes her head. "She didn't care what I looked like or what anyone said. She even insulted my painting, just because it was _that bad_."

 _How mean,_ he thinks to himself.

"But... it was nice. We ended hanging out and talking more, and... she became my best friend. I couldn't have made it through these years without her."

... It was no wonder that the Phantom Thieves started there, then, with such strong feelings attached to one girl. Goro glances down at the plates they have spread across the table between them, some of them empty save for crumbs and smears and others half-finished, and doesn't think he could eat another bite.

"It's kind of like you and Akira," she's saying now, snapping his attention back up. "He treats you like you're no one special too, the first of us to do that. Wasn't it a relief?"

He's quiet, then nods slowly. It was. Leblanc really was a nice place for that, where he was a customer like anyone else, and Akira had _always_ pushed against him in a way that...

... that made him feel understood, in a way, he realizes, and the grip on his fork is painful. Goro smiles a little forcefully, something clawing his innards hatefully. "I'm actually quite thankfully for all of you. Though I've been opposing you all this time, and I'm the reason you're going to be splitting up once we change Sae-san's heart... I haven't felt like an outcast among you. Well," after a moment, " _most_ of you."

"Oh, you and Ryuji are _never_ gonna get along, and even if you do it'll still be like that. Him and Morgana are the same way!"

And yet they still looked out for one another as a team. Ann waves her fork around. "And it's not like we aren't going to be friends even if we disband, you know? I can't imagine _not_ hanging out with them."

"Well, then, I suppose I'll look forward to potentially being invited out by all of you as well, if things go smoothly." It's a joke of a reply -- why would they want to hang out with the one that disbanded them, after all -- but Ann nods firmly.

"It'll be fun!" Like it'll actually happen, and Goro finds himself wanting to move his gaze from such a brightness. "Anyway, what I wanted to say about Shiho -- she transferred to a different school because of... what happened with Kamoshida, but we're still keeping in touch. I'm going to become a light for her and others, just like she and Akira were for me."

... It sounds stupid, or it should, but there's something about it that he can believe. He plays with a bit of his bangs, smile straining on the edges.

"That's a wonderful thought, Ann-chan," he finally replies, and she grins.

"I know, right? Make sure you repay people like that too somehow, okay? And don't skimp out on cost!"

He laughs louder at that, shaking his head. "A buffet, then? I'll see what I can do to arrange a party for everyone once we're done with our job."

Ann's grin widens and she takes another forkful of cake, leaving Goro to his thoughts as she enjoys finishing the plates off. Repay those who reached out their hand? What was the point of them doing that in the first place? He was the reason they were going to disband, staying friends or not, so why would they? There was no point, so what was their game?

He's ripped out of his thoughts yet again by Ann's voice, this time asking for the check.

Well, no matter. Whatever they were trying to pull wouldn't change his mind. They _were_ going to disband, and that's _final_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much once more for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it, because honestly? this might've been my favorite so far... i really love rewatching the different confidant ranks and keeping goro in mind, what each of them have in common with him, how the protag helps them and might see the same shades in the detective himself... it's nice
> 
> look forward to the next!


	4. yusuke kitagawa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> paintings often inspire feelings in others, and a picture is worth a thousand words
> 
> yusuke's tastes, while similar to goro's own in some regard, are abstract at best

Art museums are the high point of sophistication. There's not a lot of adults who can actually _speak_ art, but the more you know of a subject that another doesn't, the more impressive you seem.

It helps that Goro actually quite likes roaming the exhibits too, the world silent and observing. Everyone has their own opinions here despite seeing the same thing. Everyone thinks they're right, that they know what the artist might've been feeling or thinking or wanting this piece to be. He's not above that either, but it helps to be a detective; he can usually pick out details others can't, posing questions to the artists that tend to draw close to their own art in hopes of hearing what others think. Artists are _starved_ for validation.

He peruses the new exhibit showing off a number of different pieces that'd been in some contest, pausing at each for a moment before moving on. They're nothing he hasn't seen before in some other form, by someone better. Broad, simple topics, things like _life_ and _peace_ , _memories_ they might've loved. What they all mean to the person who'd put paint to canvas, who'd thrown their heart into their work, and decided to do something stupid like show it off to anyone who'd look.

This is why he could never do it himself.

Goro doesn't realize he's been looking at one particular painting for far longer than the others until a familiarly deep voice speaks up beside him: "What are your thoughts on it?"

"... I'm not sure," he replies to Yusuke, eyes flickering to the plaque beside the painting that bears the other's name. It isn't a good enough answer for any artists, he knows, and casts his gaze back on the swirl of color backed by darkness, feeling something hook into the back of his mind. It's familiar. It reminds him of Mementos, almost, in color scheme, but that brightness is... off-putting, maybe. The technique was clearly superb, and it had the feeling of a _complete work_ , of something that couldn't possibly be improved any further, but--

It made him uncomfortable, one hand pressing to his chest and pressing his lips tight together. He shakes his head, dropping the hand consciously and smiling. "I'm usually rather good at guessing the intentions behind things -- it's a skill that comes with being a detective -- but I'm afraid I don't quite understand what it has to do with what you've titled it."

 _Desire and Hope._ Yusuke's lips quirk and he closes his eyes, lifting his head lightly. "You more than anyone else should understand, Akechi, having been in the heart of humanity just as I have. Does it not remind you of something?"

Too many things, really, though Mementos is the answer Yusuke's looking for. Goro nods and that's all the artist needs.

"It is no secret that I have been struggling for some time with my art." A glance through school records after Madarame's fall would give as much, teachers worrying over the prodigy's talent, if this would be where he burned out or rose up like a phoenix. Goro had barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "However, within the recent months... I have found exactly what I had been searching for, the path from which I strayed."

There feels more to that, but he moves back. "It is important for an artist to hear every opinion an audience has to answer, so I'd like to ask you once more, Akechi. What do you think of it?"

And something tells him Yusuke won't take the same answer as before. Really, he and the others get along so well like that.

"... It's... _uncomfortable_ , in a way," Goro starts with honesty and slides into TV talk, "almost as if you've truly captured the contrast of humanity. Really, it's quite amazing, and though I don't claim to be an art expert I can tell that your technique is a grade above those around you."

Yusuke seems to be waiting for more, and after a moment the detective tacks on a question of his own. "What inspired you to paint it this way? Surely there's other ways to convey what you have here."

"... My mother has always been an inspiration for me, whether I knew it or not," and that rings something in Goro, a memory of absently glancing over profiles and catching that note, connecting the dots between Madarame's confessions and the _accident_ that befell the woman. The detective hums softly, staring over the painting again. "Unfortunately, I wasn't able to know her. All I have left is Sayuri," that masterful work, "and the feelings she embedded within it."

"And you hope to give others those same feelings," he supplies the rest; Yusuke glances at him from the side, nodding, and bringing a hand to his chin.

"Therefore, I simply conveyed humanity in the rawest way I could imagine."

Well, he had the inky darkness right. It's mesmerizing beneath the brighter colors, swirling Goro's own into a quiet frenzy, and he shifts uncomfortably on his feet. It really wasn't something he wanted to look at for a long period of time, _especially_ not with its creator so close by.

Yusuke's voice draws him out of his quiet thoughts. "There is another thing that inspired me, however."

"Oh?"

"Indeed. While I do wish to inspire the same feelings Sayuri gave myself and others... It was Akira who led me to the conclusion you see before you," full of such fondness is sends his skin crawling, leaving him to hum in wonderment. "He is my light."

What a romantic notion. Goro wonders if Yusuke's aware of it, of how infatuated he sounds, and wonders more if it's inappropriate to ask. They lapse into a surprisingly easy silence, others milling about them to see the different paintings on display, more than one eye being caught by the magnificence of Yusuke's; do they not feel uncomfortable by it? How desire is so twisted and dark, while the lightness is purely hope? How they couldn't be switched? Goro glances around, fingers locked loosely in front of him, before speaking up.

"Do you like Kurusu-kun, Kitagawa-kun?"

"Of course, don't you?" Oh, he doesn't mind name he calls him, that's... ah, a question.

"Well, as you said, of course! He's a very interesting individual to me, but I meant more..." Goro tilts his head slightly towards the painting, smile polite and something itching beneath his skin. "You said he's your light, didn't you? That's very romantic."

Yusuke blinks for a moment and nods, closing his eyes with a satisfied smile on his face. "Yes. It's the same for you, isn't it?"

"-- Pardon me?" He can't help the slight uptick in pitch, surprised when the question's turned around on him. His hands come up in an apologetic manner. "Ah... No, I think you..."

"You're very fond of him, aren't you?" With a knowing tone, _god_ does he dislike this group.

Goro chuckles lightly, scratching just under his chin idly. "I suppose I can't hide it, can I? I'm not very subtle."

"Indeed, nothing about you is." The artist gestures back to his painting, unaware of the displeased face Goro makes. "But you can understand, then, the feelings behind it? Even if it's uncomfortable to look at, keeping in mind that all of that is Akira... It turns into the opposite, wouldn't you agree?"

From one side of the spectrum to the other. No, not really, not to Goro; if anything, the thought that _all of that_ was Akira simply wrapped hands around his neck and _squeezed_. He can see the other in front of him, gloves red as the eyes behind the mask placed above that insane smirk of his, and lifts his chin slightly. "Yes, I can see what you mean," calm and pleasant and not seeing the image of a phantom, "though I don't quite compare Kurusu-kun to what you do. He's much more of a..." He trails off, head tilting slightly as the figment Joker does the same. Hums. "To me, he's like fire."

Surrounding and suffocating, fun to watch, coaxing and warm... but untouchable, too much in close encounters, dangerous if you forget yourself. Goro waves his hands and the figment goes with the odd feeling in his gut, laughing pleasantly. "Well, I suppose that's a kind of comforting light itself, so perhaps they're closer than I thought."

The painting gets under his skin in a way that Akira manages too, but he's not going to stand here and debate points with it. Yusuke's called away by an older man -- someone he seems familiar with -- and bids him goodbye. Goro waves with too-straight fingers and a smile that could fool a billion eyes on TV, craving coffee and wildfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! thank you again for reading -- and sorry for the wait! yusuke's a tough customer, so i honestly felt pretty nervous writing him... rereading it made me laugh though, so that's what counts. thank you to everyone who's commented, too! i'm always really happy to read them, makes my day 'u' i hope you'll look forward to the next!


	5. makoto niijima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a battle of wits over a plate of fries
> 
> more importantly, goro and makoto talk about sae, and how it must feel for her to work through a palace belonging to a loved one

Out of all of the others he's met with and consequentially had some degree of enjoyable time with (Yusuke not withstanding), Makoto's is possibly both one of the most normal and awkward experiences Goro's had the pleasure of peering in on. It's clear that she doesn't have the same handling on talking to others the way he does, nor for pretending that things are exactly as they are, and so it's after the movie they'd gone to see (some action flick she'd been more into than he thought she would be, but knowing her older sister makes it all the more believable) that he poses the question to her, amused and hiding his smile behind the curl of his fingers: "Did Kurusu-kun put you up to this as well, Makoto-chan?"

"What? No, of course not, Akechi-kun, I... only thought that it'd be good to get to know someone that's joined us so recently, even if you _are_ asking us to disband once this is over." To her credit, she remains rather unflustered, the only indication that he'd caught her off-guard the minuscule tightening of her fingers against the glass of soda she'd ordered. He hums thoughtfully, eyes flicking over her for any other tells as she continues. "What do you mean, as well?"

"Oh, nothing! It just seems he's been meddling with my personal business, that's all. I'm sorry if I offended you by assuming."

Makoto shakes her head, smile knowing. "Don't worry about it. Our leader... _does_ tend to meddle, honestly."

At least they're aware of it. Goro smiles back, popping a french fry into his mouth and shifting the topic, lacing concern on the edges of his tone like a fine seamstress. "I don't think I've asked you this before, Makoto-chan, but... how are you? It must be difficult, going through your sister's Palace..."

At the mention of their mission her eyes break from his, unable to fully mask the frustration. He thinks of how it must be for her, knowing Sae as they both do, and the sides they've both missed. It was easier for him to spot a Palace then them, considering his experience... but to think that she'd have such a glitzy place, so loud and filled with people ready to throw their savings away at a single shot of greatness, it certainly had been something of a surprise.

"... It is," she admits, leaning back in the booth and crossing her arms. Still not looking at him. "I... knew she'd been getting worse, but there was never anything I could say to try and help. I could've never imagined that she had a _Palace_ either."

"She seems too firm in her own ideals to have one, I agree, but... it was, in part, those ideals that laid the foundation down. Unable to see anything else, Sae-san grew obsessed with victory by any means possible." He leans forward on both elbows now, his hands a platform to rest his chin on. "I fear I may have incidentally helped with its creation as well, seeing as I took an interest in the same case and bounced ideas off of her."

"You couldn't have known."

The assurance does little to the mood he puts on display, smile thankful if nothing else, and he trades it back. "The same to you, then. I suppose Sae-san must've been just as private at home as she was at work."

Makoto sighs, nodding. "To be honest..." A moment's hesitation; her hands grip her arms tighter, lips pursing and looking frustrated again. "To be honest, it started to feel like I was more of a burden than a sister to her."

A burden.

Goro's aware of the way his face falters, can feel it, and he's thankful her eyes haven't returned to him yet.

_"Go to bed, Goro."_

_"But mama, it's early!"_

_Tired eyes. A face wrinkled by stress, even so young, and hair dulled from a lack of care. He's the opposite; bright eyes and a smooth face, matching chestnut locks well-tended._

_"I know," she says, and the **way** she says it drops something into his stomach; his hand twists the front of his shirt, worry filling him from toes to the tips of his ears, and it doesn't leave when she pets his head. "But I need you to go to bed just a little earlier today, okay? Mama's going too."_

_The floor drops into view and he nods, changing into pajamas and crawling into bed with her, eyes drifting over the room that's lit by the dim evening sun. Despite the imperfections, the loud neighbors and the lack of comfy places to sleep that wasn't the bed, it's home. In stark contrast to the yellowed walls, though, are the toys he gets every year for his birthday, though even the oldest ones showed little wear._

_"Goodnight, Goro," she murmurs, gripping him loosely. He can feel her heart pounding against his back and turns around, curling inward._

_"... Goodnight, Mama," he whispers, knowing she's already dropped off into sleep herself. Shifts to get comfortable, laying around a bump just right, but his mind stays awake with leftover energy._

_Hesitates, then gets up, sliding carefully out of his mother's arms despite knowing it wouldn't matter how loud or rough he was, she wouldn't wake up when she was so tired from work. Pads into the small kitchen, staring at the differences between the cracked cups she's had for years and the special one she'd bought for him on request, moves around their home to continue the same comparisons. Faded clothes with tears stitched together, brand new outfits using money the bills say they don't have. Something rotten crawls through his body and settles in his stomach, twisting it into knots, and he goes to the window, opening it slightly to hear the voices of the wind._

_'What a poor woman,' they wail softly, 'having to take care of such a selfish child. Doesn't he realize what she's giving up for him?'_

_'It's her own damn fault,' a gale howls in response, chill blasting against his face. 'If she didn't want things to be this way, she would've just--'_

"Akechi-kun?"

He flinches back, eyes wide and heart aching, and smiles at Makoto's concerned face with a wave of his hand. "Sorry, I have a bad habit of getting lost in my thoughts. Did you say something?"

"I was wondering what my sister was like at work." And he has _every intention_ to follow up on that, but she's as persistent as the _rest_ \-- "Are you sure you're alright? You're kind of pale," with a hand reaching across the table towards him, and suddenly it _stops_ as he grabs her wrist, careful not to squeeze too hard. Careful, careful.

"Thank you for your concern, Makoto-chan, but I really am alright," he replies, smile wide and eyes crinkled just right. "There's nothing you need to worry about, though you and your older sister both have a habit of that. She makes me takes days off every so often too."

Makoto's about as happy with his assurances as Sae is, which is to say very politely and firmly _not_ , but she draws back her hand and keeps it to herself this time. Goro stares back, aware that if there's _anyone_ on the thieves that could match him wit for intellectual wit it's the young lady in front of him, and casually eats at his fries instead.

A minute passes. Maybe two, it feels like it, but he's not inclined to check; her gaze breaks away and he feels relief spread through him, relaxing just a bit as she asks about her sister again. "In a word, Sae-san's very much a _busybody_. Incredibly hard-working and ambitious, I often find myself admiring her and working just as much to stay on the same level. Not to mention the hunches she has about others..." He trails off, smile feeling more genuine than before. "Sae-san's got a good eye and a better head on her shoulder than most of the others she works with, Makoto-chan, and it shows in the gossip that surrounds her. There's plenty of lesser men who scorn her for the very traits others idolize."

And not many of those lesser men gave her a second glance, after Goro'd given them a look that sent chills down their spines. If they had the courage to say anything they did behind Sae's back to her face, they wouldn't be so lucky in coming into work the next day. Courtesy of her.

"I see." Makoto seems thoughtful about it, so he ventures to mention that she and her sister are alike, in that way, with good eyes and better heads. It catches her off-guard with a pleasant pink across her cheeks and Goro chuckles. "Thank you. Do you have any siblings, Akechi-kun?"

Technically, maybe. He's had plenty. All different shapes and sizes, some tangentially related by a degree of blood and most by not, but immediate ones?

"Unfortunately, I'm an only child." And he's good at playing at it too, like someone has high expectations of him, like he's been spoiled with love and care. The public takes care of both of those. "I always wanted a younger sister, though, even if I don't think I cut a very impressive figure when it comes to intimidation."

Makoto's laugh agrees with that and he grins lightly, setting aside the matter of Akira's meddling for now. She wouldn't breathe a word of it anyway even if he pushed; she and Sae were alike in that, too, keeping cards close to their chest until the moment presented itself. Gamblers at heart. He wonders, then, the differences between them; was it truly because Makoto had others to keep her in check? Because Sae felt the pressure of others and used it to strive higher, neglecting attachments in the process?

... Then, if he didn't have this power, would he, too--

"Your mind really does wander a lot, doesn't it," she observes, pulling him out again, and he simply chuckles sheepishly in reply. "They say that's a trait of a smart person, though, so I guess it isn't a bad thing. As long as it doesn't happen in the Metaverse."

Goro shakes his head, glancing out the window and catching sight of Akira passing by, perking up and turning his head to follow slightly. "Ah, no, you won't find my mind anywhere but where it needs to be in the Metaverse, Makoto-chan, don't worry."

He misses her raised eyebrows at that, and when his gaze returns forward she's busying herself with finishing up the fry pile between them with a satisfied smile. The question he asks about it goes unanswered, brushed off easily, and Goro feels as if he's suddenly missed a turn in the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! recently, i opened up a [kofi](https://ko-fi.com/sundry) page where you can donate a small amount of money if you'd like! think of it as a tip jar -- not necessary, but highly appreciated
> 
> anyway, i enjoyed writing this chapter a lot, and i'm really happy about everyone that's enjoyed the story so far! thank you so much for commenting, and i hope you look forward to the next as well! we're almost done with the phantom thieves


	6. futaba sakura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akira ditches futaba into goro's care and they go to akihabara together for some good ol' fun
> 
> it doesn't end very well.

It's a peaceful Saturday when Goro takes his usual spot in Leblanc, ankles crossed just so with a new blend halfway gone from his cup, and Akira slides in the seat beside him, taking off his glasses in the process. Goro's not sure if he should be confused or amused, but he knows he's surprised to see an unmasked seriousness across the leader of the Phantom Thieves's face.

"...Yes?" He finally asks when there's no indication of conversation to be had, and Akira rests his cheek in his palm, suddenly looking more tired.

"Akechi. I have a mission for you." Akira waits for him to incline his head before continuing. "I'm supposed to go with Futaba to Akiba today, but I forgot I made a... prior engagement."

A date? A meeting with one of the many confidants Goro's found the other has? "And you want me to take her instead?"

He nods, and that's the moment the bell jingles.

"A-ki-raaa! It's--" Futaba stops short, staring at Goro, and he smiles lightly at her.

"Good afternoon, Futaba-chan. Kurusu-kun informed me that you two were going to Akiba today, is that right?" She nods, glancing behind him with a suspicious look. "May I take you instead? I haven't been able to go in quite a while," he hears a noise of surprise from Akira at the new knowledge, "and I'd like to see what's new."

"You go to Akiba in the first place?!"

Futaba has every right to be surprised, and so does Akira when Goro turns to look back at him. The Detective Prince? Going to Akihabara from time to time? It must be a shock to think he'd even set foot in that area, knowing the legacy of it, and he laughs brightly, waving his hand. "Now and then. I liked going to the cat cafes and work on cases there; Leblanc may only have one feline, but I'd say it's far superior to anything there."

"Ever gone to a maid cafe?" Akira asks, sliding his glasses back on. Goro's not sure why it bothers him and shakes his head to answer. "Guess it'd be hard for you to go to one anyway, you're too handsome."

He chuckles in response, shaking his head again and smiling at Futaba. "Well?"

Futaba's gaze goes behind him again, a small plea, and then her expression darkens as she huffs. "Fine! But you'd better keep up, newb, or I'll leave you in the dust."

"She's been leveling up like crazy," Akira answers a question Goro never intended to ask, "so she's pretty capable of taking care of herself in crowds." A pause. Then, softer. "Please take care of her, Akechi."

It feels far more important than it should be that he's asked this, to take care of the youngest member of their group, and Goro nods, smiling over his shoulder. "I'll return her safe and sound, Kurusu-kun."

Akira nods in return and pats his back, hand lingering a moment before standing and passing Futaba, patting her head. "Sorry I can't come today, Futaba, I forgot I had something to do."

"You're not forgiven," she mutters loud enough for both to hear, and she glances from the floor to Goro, studying him. "... You ready to go or what?"

He gives a glance to the coffee still left over and moves to grab it, Akira's fingers brushing past his in a dive to finish off the cup himself with a smile. Goro frowns, standing with a sigh. "You owe me another coffee, Kurusu-kun."

"It'll be on the house," he replies, shooing him with a hand, stepping out after them and ducking down a different alley.

There's a pause, and Goro tries to figure out what's bothering him about Akira's leaving.

"He didn't have Mona with him," Futaba notes, and _that's_ it. Morgana wasn't weighing down his bag. "Wonder what he's doing, they're usually inseparable."

His detective's gut wants to follow up on it, but he shakes his head and gestures the opposite way. "Let's find our line, Futaba-chan. Whatever Kurusu-kun's up to is no doubt for the greater good of the group, so we should have faith in him."

Akiba finds them in better spirits, the draw of the different gashapon too much to resist for Goro himself and he stands in front of a row, pacing methodically back and forth. Futaba watches, sitting on the flats of her feet, arms drawn around her knees and chin tucked into them, and gives a whine of discontent. "Aren't you _done yet_?"

"Hardly."

"They're all the same thing, aren't they?" They are. Datamon, to be exact, adorable little creatures made entirely of-- well, of data. His own favorite was the monstrously powerful and beautifully elegant Furestor, a tree-like canine whose bar was quite literally worse than its bite. The only good dog was a fictional one. "Why're you looking at all of them like that? Akira does the same thing."

That pauses his movement and he turns back, squinting against the light shining in his eyes. "Does he?"

"Says he can smell a good prize." Futaba taps her nose seriously. "What's your excuse?"

"Oh, something more mathematical. While one would rightly assume the greater variety lies in a machine with more capsules, it's always been my belief that they hide the best ones nearer to the top -- purely on chance, of course -- and therefore one with _less_ would grant you those instead of something more common."

Futaba snorts, but she stands and slowly treads her way over, looking at a few of them and patting one that's about medium-filled; not the lowest, but not the highest. "This one."

Goro keeps his smile in check, but he's amused. "What makes you think so, Futaba-chan?"

"Intuition!"

He laughs, nodding, and slides a coin in. With a gesture of his hand she takes the knob and turns it slowly, listening to the _chink_ of coin on others and the slow roll of the capsule coming to greet them, green bottom hiding their prize from sight. Both stare at the mystery, then look at each other; Goro plucks it from its spot and quickly hides it from sight within the palms of his hands, excitement raising the hairs on the back of his neck as Futaba nods determinedly.

Fingers uncurl and the form of a dopey looking cat stares at them, something Goro dully recognizes as Lacatdaisy, an utterly useless little feline that specialized in stall tactics in competitions. He sighs, but Futaba snatches out of his hand with a gasp. "You came to me!"

"You actually like--" He pauses, then clears his throat, dropping his hands to his sides. "Lacatdaisy isn't... a particularly popular Datamon, or so I understand."

"That's because they don't know how to unlock its true power." She rolls the capsule in her hands a bit, then takes out the beige cat and tucks it carefully into her jacket pocket. "Sure, it's a staller, but if you can set it up right it can dish out some _serious_ hurt -- all while they're just sitting there whittling down your health, totally unaware!"

... Interesting. He supposes this is why she's their overall navigator of the group, mind flicking through different options and knowing the strengths of foes and friends alike. Certainly not the one to give orders or anything, but-- it's just as important to have someone who can quite literally know you inside and out. As uncomfortable as that makes him. A Persona is only a Persona, he reasons to himself, her knowing such trivial things like what Robin Hood is strong against or weak to means nothing. And seeing as she hadn't brought up anything _else_...

Goro shakes his head, pocketing the opened capsule she holds out to him and smiles. "We're here for a new game, correct? Let's head over and then take a break at a cafe."

Obtaining the new game, Futaba mutters under her breath, was _supposed_ to be to prove to Akira how far she's come since day one. But seeing how similar Goro and him are, she can _easily_ show off to the newbie -- or so she'd claimed, yet now he was watching her out of the corner of his eye as she fidgets in front of the shelf with it on, clearly looking up _just_ out of reach. He smiles in pitying amusement and settles his hand against his cheek, half-crossing his arms.

By all means, he should help her out. But it was important that she learned that you could only look to yourself for help or, in cases like this, to use others for selfish gain. In a manner of speaking.

_Please take care of her, Akechi._

His fingers tighten against his arm and he sighs, drawing closer slowly as Futaba's got one foot on the first shelf and a hand steadying herself for a climb. "Allow me, Futaba-chan -- this isn't the important part of it, right?"

She pauses in her pre-ascent, turning to stare at him as aloofly as Akira tended to, and narrows her eyes with a huff as she hops back down. "Fetch!"

 _A dog now, am I?_ Goro thinks to himself, smile tightening slightly. He does as tasked, though, handing over the case and following behind her, picking up a plush on the way; something that looks like it came out of the Metaverse, frankly, and it takes him a moment to realize it _is_ : a Jack Frost, the smile wide and deceptively friendly. He chuckles lightly and waits in line behind the trembling girl, patting her back gently. It helps a lot more than he thought it would and, though Futaba keeps her head down and doesn't speak, she manages to complete the transaction without much issue. She looks almost jealous that he's able to do it so easily with his purchase.

"Doesn't it get hard to breathe?" She presses once they're sitting at a cafe, cats meowing a door away. "Surrounded by people. Having them watch you. Stuff like that."

 _Sometimes,_ part of him admits. _It's tiring. It's exhausting, even, not for the faint of heart, not for those who aren't ready to become someone else just to handle it._

"Well... I suppose, in a way," he says instead, hand coming up to curl beneath his mouth thoughtfully. "But I'm rather used to the attention at this point, so it isn't bothersome. You only recently came out of... ah, came out of hiding, so to say."

Knocked back down to level one, in her terms, and she hugs the Jack Frost plush he'd let her hold to her chest almost habitually. Probably in place of her legs. Endearing, reminds him of a sister he'd had in one house, shy and quiet and _needlessly unhelpful when her brother shoves the ceramic plate off the table, the crash alerting their (his, hers, not Goro's) mother back into the kitchen with an overworked and irritated howl; the brother's got alligator tears as he grips his sister, finger pointed at Goro himself and he still remembers gripping fabric beneath his young fist, just ten turning eleven the next week, heart thudding wildly when the looming woman looks at the girl and asks her what had happened._

_She's been quiet, eyes staring at Goro for a moment before darting to the ground, answer barely a whisper: "He threw it at us."_

"--lo? Heeeey, earth to space case, Golden Boy, Akechi, Your Highness!" Futaba's pushing the Jack Frost against his face and he jerks back, hand gripping over his thudding heart as he regains his bearings and looks around, smiling briefly at the waitress who's brought them their order before she leaves and then turns it onto Futaba, who's looking at him in a curious way, opening her mouth for some prodding question--

"Sorry, it's a bad habit of mine," he smooths over with that same smile, appetite gone and food tasteless when he bites mindlessly into it. His hand loosens and falls into his lap. "I tend to lose track of my thoughts."

She stares at him a moment longer than he likes, but sets the plush on the table beside her and digs in. "Akira gets the same way in Mementos." There's no one here in the afternoon because the cats are too sleepy to rub affectionately on any hopefuls; evening would be a better bet for that. "Says there's some kinda door here or there, happens in Palaces too, but none of us can see it. He always looks more put together when he snaps out of it though." Her pause is thoughtful this time, spearing into the cake. "Stronger, too."

"Well, that's good," even if it's a little stilted it's pleasant and faux-relieved. More than enough to fool anyone. "Though I can't say I've ever seen one myself," even if he has, opened once, twice maybe, "that sounds like it would be very useful. I wish we were all given the same, don't you?"

He expects a yes. Maybe a thoughtful pause. But Futaba surprises him on both points with a shake of her head, wiggling the fork in her mouth and spearing another piece of cake off. "No one else knows, except Morgana maybe, but he's always really on edge when he comes out of it? Like he's been gone for hours instead of minutes or something like that. Tired. But you'd never guess, right?"

Not with how he moves, coattails lashing in the wind of battle and Mementos itself, stride confident and smirk ever-present. Goro shakes his head. "No, he always seems to have his head on his shoulders."

"Drops dead when he goes home, or so Morgana's said." Ha. "But sometimes he pushes that too." A wave of her hand; discussion over, even if he's curious about Akira's weakness and condition now. "So what's got your mind out the window, bird brain?"

"Bird brain," he murmurs bemused, shaking his head. "Nothing in particular. Just... a memory."

When all that follows is silence, Goro realizes he's being given the floor to talk about it, impressed further by Futaba's stare and slow finishing of the cake before her. He meets her eyes, eating despite the lack of appetite, and blinks first, clicking his tongue. "You win staring contests a lot, don't you."

"When they happen," she replies, and then adds on, "and when I can actually make eye contact, yeah. Fess up."

He sets his fork aside, threading his fingers together and staring steadily ahead; it isn't hard to think about mentioning these things to Futaba because she was there when he'd spoken of his unfortunate mother and the implications that led on from that, tucked behind Akira as she was. His eyes slide towards her and she's balancing the broad of the fork on the tip of her finger, moving it up and down and being careful as it sways.

"... You remind me of a girl I stayed with," he starts, careful to keep his tone neutral and erring on the side of slight resentment, "after my mother died. Quiet, shy, but she didn't stand up for herself or anyone else. That's where you differ, Futaba-chan. I was simply thinking about her watching you."

She hums, letting the fork clatter to the plate and leaning back into the booth, hugging her knees to her chest out of habit. Tucks her chin behind, shifting her body to stare at him. "Did you move around a lot?"

Futaba had, if he recalled from Sae's words; she'd been passed through family members, eventually ending up in an uncle's care, and then more suitably under her current guardian's. Supposedly, there were still... _house calls_ as well. Goro doesn't adopt the same position as her, even if he'd like to, and settles for leaning on his hand, fingers curled against his tight lips as he thinks through his answer.

His utterly true answer.

"I did. There... wasn't much hope for me, I'm afraid; after my mother met an untimely demise, I was..." He pauses, rolling the words through his mind until fixating on a familiar one, smile brittle at the edges. "A handful. There were many people who had children of their own at the time and who thought they could handle one more, but... it wasn't easy, and the children weren't particularly easy to get along with," he decides to say, instead of the more straight truth of _they hated me for taking attention and I held no love for them either_. "In the end, blood is thicker than water and I was sent to another. Or an orphanage to be held."

The latter, in his experience, was the _worst_. Not because it was a poor place, but... it just wasn't a place he liked, sharing it with so many others who grappled for attention just as much. Watching from the outside, he imagines it was a little like a koi pond: everyone fighting for a scrap of attention, a bit more food than the others, from an exhausted staff of volunteers that was always growing shorter.

Goro shakes his head, easing his smile forcefully. "I heard from Sae-san that you lost your mother, Futaba-chan?" Averted eyes says it's true, even when she doesn't speak up and curls more inwardly. He understands. He understands more than anyone else, even if the memory of Wakaba Isshiki's shadow digs into him the way his silencer had into her, and his hand alights on Futaba's shoulder before he can think to pull it away.

"That won't ease over time," soft, knowing, quieter than usual, "but it numbs. Even now, I..."

Silence lays thickly over them, the rest of the sentence lost in it, and Goro gently brushes his knuckles across her cheek, catching the beginnings of a tear there; she jerks back in response and he _understands_. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Do you want to see the cats now?"

Futaba nods and just as swiftly leaves to the play area for them; he catches her with several in her lap, face buried in one curled against her chest, and reluctantly sits in a chair across the room from her, idly petting the tuxedo that noisily jumps onto his legs.

When they return to Leblanc, purchases in hand, Goro doesn't linger to chat with Akira, who offers him a new coffee to make up for the one earlier. He simply shakes his head, takes a rain check, and leaves with the Jack Frost plush tucked inconspicuously inside his jacket to ward off any teases from company.

The emptiness of his apartment reminds him that no matter how much he might get along with them all, how much they were coming around to him now and-- and making him _feel part of them_ , the bonds of others would never serve him well. They were a means to an end, _all of them_. No matter what they'd lost. How they felt. The views they had on others, on himself-- all of that was just-- just--

Goro's laugh is as hollow as the rest of the rooms, perfect showpieces placed just right, and he shakes his head. No, none of that mattered.

(It _couldn't_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i... think this is my longest chapter so far. it feels like it, fatigue-wise, especially since my first draft wasn't as satisfying and i ended up having to rewrite the whole thing... but it's here! there's still two thieves to go, so it's not quite finished, but it really is soon to be done. I'm excited!
> 
> thank you so much for reading! seeing numbers rise, from kudos to bookmarks and everything in between, is honestly a joy... especially subscriptions tbh, knowing there's a good many of you waiting for the next chapter really gives me a buzz c: i hope you'll enjoy the rest of the ride!


	7. akira kurusu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> new territory, one shot
> 
> or: finally, some answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! we are reaching the end of this fic soon enough, within the next two chapters i think, and i apologize for the month wait! but i've been really excited for this one in particular, because it's the one i've been writing towards since i began and i hope you'll enjoy it as well c:
> 
> thank you everyone who's read so far and those who just found it! your comments, kudos, and bookmarks are appreciated to hell and back again; i get excited when i see how many people have subscribed, knowing they're waiting for the next chapter!!! but yes, please have fun reading this longer than normal chapter ♥

"Are you sure this is truly the path you wish to follow, Trickster?" Igor's grin is as wide as always, too many teeth and too long a nose. Akira's fists clench and he nods. Lavenza watches him for a moment, then looks back at her master, who makes a gesture with his hand that's more habitual than anything. "I understand this isn't the first time you and I have had this conversation before."

"It's not." He plays with the curl in front of his face for a moment, consciously stopping and lowering his hand again. "You warn me every time, too."

"It's very rare to change fates."

But it's possible. Difficult, but possible, and Igor's eyes slide to his assistant. Lavenza straightens slightly, looking up at Akira. "When you step through the door, you won't be able to return." Just like the other times. He could almost mouth the words. "All things gained and learned will be lost." But the body remembers. He'll have intuition years beyond what he did when he first started this, twelve loops ago. "You will still have access to the Persona you allied yourself with," as always, something about the unconscious holding all pasts, presents, futures, "but the services available to you at this moment must be earned once more."

She pauses, something softer in the inhuman eyes. "It would be in your best interest to gain access to them as soon as you can."

"As soon as I have the money," he promises, glancing at the book in her hand. Each request was perfected in it now.

His gaze returns to Igor and the long nosed man nods. "A word of advice, Trickster."

"I'm all ears," with a tap to the side of his head.

"Seek to use those around you. Their experiences may better your chances."

It's the first real hint Akira's ever gotten from the master of the Velvet Room and he wonders if it's a reward for managing to turn every bond into something unshakable this time. Lavenza looks as surprised as he feels, but it settles into a smile as she nods. Igor points a long finger behind him and Akira knows there's a door there, one that's appeared as quiet as a butterfly's wings, just as there's been since the first time. He's thankful that this conversation gets easier to navigate with every new shot.

"When you are ready, Trickster."

 

 "Are you sure it'll work?"

"Maybe." A pause. "Hopefully."

Morgana's tail curls around his paws, bright blue eyes peering up at him. Akira returns the stare.

"... I trust you," the cat finally says, raising a paw that stops the flood of relief through him. "But if nothing seems to change, we continue on like normal."

He nods, feeling lighter than he ever has the months leading up to this one, and throws open the group chat -- the one _without_ Akechi in it.

**[Joker]** Guys, I need a favor.

 

 They’re not readily on board for it. There’s valid concerns, like if it _doesn’t_ work out, and god Ryuji _trusts Akira_ , he _does_ , but what the hell makes him so sure that Akechi’s the way Akira’s claiming. Like Akira hadn’t spent the past half a year working to gain their trust and friendship for the _thirteenth time_ , and he bites his tongue on the fact as he tries to remind himself that this is new territory, just as much a surprise as seeing the various fusion (execution) methods already spread across the Velvet Room’s floor, the key pressing warmly against his chest crossing into that realm with him.

He hadn’t thought to show it off, to question anything, because there was a feeling that he shouldn’t. But this? About Akechi? It might be better to talk.

“... Because I’ve seen this happen twelve times before,” he knows it sounds ridiculous, eyes casting over the disbelief and confusion the others have in spades. “Because I’ve been trying for-- for over a _decade_ to get this right. _I know Akechi._ ” Better than he should, in some instances, one loop granting him the feeling of those hands sans gloves pressed against his own, a cold snap in his heart where bubbling warmth once nested. “And I know that he needs us -- _all_ of us,” firmly towards Ryuji, who looks like he’s bitten into a lemon. “All of us,” Akira repeats softer, guilt chewing at him for two points in particular.

Akechi’s got black blood on his hands, intends to add red to his palette, but _every thief_ has something they can bring to the table for him. He can feel it. He knows it this time, the strength of their bonds thrumming deep within his soul, cascading through memories over twelve different loops. Over a decade, which doesn’t weigh on him as much as it should since it doesn’t _feel_ like that many years, since it’s the same year over and over again anyway. And it’s fuzzy, too. Doesn’t feel like a full year, just part, and it’s not as exhausting as you’d think; Akira thinks it’s got something to do with his body remembering things, not having to relearn it all from scratch.

Small blessings, he guesses.

“... What do we need to do?” Haru asks, break the silence that’d come down over them all. Morgana’s tail curls happily at _someone_ believing Akira, and Akira smiles too, relief loosening the tension in his shoulders. “If he’s no different than the rest of us, then it is our duty to assist him. Isn’t that right?”

Yusuke nods, smiling readily. “I believe so as well. Though Akechi is currently our enemy, I see no issue with extending a hand.”

Ryuji looks pained still, turning to Ann and Makoto like they’ll have something to say, and Akira lifts his chin slightly at the pair of girls. Ann twirls her hair around her finger, golden ringlets springing with the movement, and she nods. “I don’t really get _all_ of it,” _because you’re not telling the whole story_ , her stare at Akira correctly claims, “but if we can get him on our side for real, then that just makes things easier, right?”

“It’s risky.” Makoto leans back in her seat, arms crossing. “There’s... a lot of things that can go wrong, and even if _you_ think there’s a shot, Akira, you’ve done this enough times to know that it might not work out.” She waits for his nod, reluctant as it is, and then continues. “What’s different this time?”

What is _he_ doing different this time, she means, and Akira glances away.

“... The other times, I didn’t get any of you involved.”

Which is hearsay, considering how _unanimous_ their decisions have to be, how _especially_ unanimous this one has to be, but there’s a feeling in his gut that says to _trust them_ and how could he not, having collected all of their stories, having seen them through in so many different ways. Why hadn’t he done that in the first place? Why hadn’t he turned to them for help?

Maybe he’d thought he was the only one who _could_ do something, for some reason. Maybe he wanted to be the only one. The event hasn’t happened yet, won’t happen for over a month now, but Akira can feel the hatred in Akechi’s gaze, settling on him just before a painful attack.

“But this time I am,” he finally says, forcing his hands open, palms up on the table. “I can’t do this alone. I’ve tried every single thing on my own, and nothing’s worked. Sometimes it got worse.”

Felt worse, in Shido’s palace, a future target he’s always kept his lips sealed shut about. Pursuing the genuine affections hadn’t worked any better than playing cool and distancing them, so he’s settled with something in between this time; friendly, but not overly swaying one way or another. Like the first time.

Makoto’s stare pierces through him, sympathy in the hues so alike to her sister’s, and nods. “Okay then.”

“ _What?!_ That’s all it takes?!” Ryuji’s fighting a losing battle, with the collective rising against him, and he jerks his head to Futaba, who’s been content to just watch them all so far. “Futaba, you’ve got my back, right? There’s no _way_ this is gonna work!” The disbelief stings, but Akira knows it comes from a good place. “And all that stuff about loops is just--”

“You were always weirdly strong,” she cuts him off, looking at Akira. Akira feels himself tense under her scrutiny. “Even if I joined late game, you were still way, _way_ stronger than you should be, and you didn’t really need my help in navigating Okumura’s Palace either. Almost like you knew where you were going. I thought it was kinda strange, but that explains it.”

Ryuji scratches at the back of his head, looking vaguely put out, and finally sighs. “I still don’t believe that guy’s anything but a pain in our ass, but I trust you, Akira. If you think it’s gonna be better if we at least give it a shot, well.” A grin. “I’m with you. Besides, it’s gonna feel _good_ to tell you I was right!”

Akira returns the grin, leaning forward on the table. “And you can’t help but want to help someone in trouble, right?”

“Ah, shut it!”

Laughter fills the attic, corner to corner, and Akira smiles into his arms as he slides down, closing his eyes to just feel the warmth surrounding him. The bonds he’s made over the loops tug strongly at his heart, the persona lingering in the back of his mind a representation of each; only one’s left out of their group at the moment, sitting in an apartment in Ueno or hard at work pretending he wasn’t a Phantom Thief, but there’s still a gentle tug from that, too. Even if the events hadn’t happened yet, that bond wasn’t something that could be forgotten for Akira. None of them were.

The bell rings downstairs and they look at the stairwell, Morgana slipping away to check. He confirms it’s Akechi and Akira looks around, smirking lightly as he folds his hands.

“Let’s infiltrate his heart.”

 

  _He’s being used by the adults around him_ , Akira had told them to start. _He doesn’t want to kill me anymore than we want him to, but he doesn’t know that. Akechi’s just like us -- he’s an outcast of society, trying to fit in, and we need to him to realize that he’s not alone._

Just like the rest of them. They’ve been through fire and brimstone together, suffering and laughing, smiling and worrying, and each one of them knows that being alone, that having no one that can understand a single bit of your situation, is the absolute _worst_ . For someone like Akechi, who’s had that for _years_ , all it was doing was turning him into someone they’d have to change the heart of anyway in the future. A rotten adult who uses others.

So they’re nipping it in the bud a little.

“An interesting plan, Trickster.” Igor’s always been disconcerting, ever since the day (night?) Akira had found himself in the cell. He’s careful to wait for Caroline’s baton to strike the bars before he grips them, leaning against the metal that’s not as cold as it should realistically feel against his skin. “However, I must ask: what do you hope to gain from following this path?”

"An ally."

Immediate, something that Justine seems to note as she stays Caroline's anger with a cooler look. The bunned girl huffs, glaring belaying her own curiosity. Akira inhales deeply, pressing against the cell door and it holds sturdy as ever. For some reason, whenever it came to Igor, he never felt like he wanted to give the other the complete truth. So he picks the parts he feels he can say and lingers on opinion over fact. "Akechi's strong. He knows the Metaverse a lot better than any of us, since he's been doing it longer." _Much_ longer. "And what he said... about senseless accusations, about murder -- I think he really believes that stuff. I don't think he wants to kill me. But he doesn't know that."

There's a lull, the only sound the jingling of chains at his feet, and Igor gestures him on.

"So I'm going to show him he doesn't." By using others. By having them bond with him too, by trusting in his friends that they'll know what to say and how to act towards Akechi. He pauses a moment, words coming to mind, and his hesitation doesn't last long: "He can be rehabilitated too."

He's not sure why those words in particular, but he's never been more sure of something in his life. Igor's smile remains the same (or is it tighter?) and he laughs in that unsettling way of his. "Interesting. I wish you the best in your own rehabilitation then, Trickster."

"I don't see what that guy's gotta do with it!" Caroline huffs, tapping her baton against her side. "He's not even that special... I think."

Justine's sole eye stays on Akira. "All bonds are important," though he's not sure if it's to him or to her sister, "even those that would seem to end in ruin."

He thinks that she's wise to him, that she knows what he does, that this isn't the first time he's been here as the Trickster and it might not be the last, but her gaze turns away and the pressure lifts from him. Igor bids him good luck and farewell; the first sounds almost taunting in its cheer and Akira tries not to let it bother him, feeling his mind fade from the cell and returning to his room.

Morgana’s eyes blink at him from his chest and Akira stares back, the weight as comforting as it is, well, _uncomfortable_. It’s still nighttime, he realizes, and figures it’s the position they’re in now that woke up.

“Hey,” the cat says, and Akira parrots it softly in return. “You said once that there’s a part of the year that’s just fuzzy for you, right? After we take care of the last target.”

A name he’s never given out to anyone, even if it’s one he could never forget.

“Do you know why?”

Honestly, he’d never sat back to think about why that was. He’d just kind of accepted it, mind busy with keeping dates in order, what he needed to do and when to progress as smoothly as possible to this point; Akira thinks about it now, but nothing comes to the surface.

... Just what _happened_ on Christmas Eve? They’d made plans to go into Mementos, but after that, after talking to Morgana that night and then returning to the Velvet Room in his dreams (the public’s not going to change their minds on anything, they’re not going to care, it’s a snag in his own “rehabilitation”) and then... nothing. Like he just woke up in his own bed back in his hometown, mindlessly slipping through the days until he was sent to Tokyo because of a misdemeanor, and woke to these memories the first moment he stepped into the Metaverse. Parsing through them each time was always difficult, he remembers, notebooks filled with scribblings over and over and over again. But otherwise--

“No, I don’t.” He’s as put off as he sounds. It’s one of the things that he shares with Morgana, memory loss, and the cat scoots closer to nudge Akira’s face with his own.

“Well, we’ll figure that out too -- _after_ we save Akechi. Keep your chin up, it’ll work out.”

It has to, or else Akira really _will_ be dead this time.

 

 The plan goes well. Joker diverts attention so the rest can escape, slipping past enemies and bounding over them in some cases, grinning widely at their yells, and the leap through the stained glass is a rush he loves _every single time_ ; lands like he should with cat-like grace, the approval of his teammates still ringing in his ears (is Crow’s real, though? or is it still fake?) when the lights fall on him as planned and he bolts for the ladder he knows is there by heart, every move practiced beyond the loops that’ve already trained his body to know when and where.

He gets caught, just as planned, and details the story to Niijima Sae once the police have had their fill of knocking his smug ass around. The drugs make it hard to focus every time, but thankfully at this point his body seems to have gotten used to them enough that it’s not as bad as the first few. He tries not to think too hard about it.

The phone stays in the room with him.

It’s a risky move, but they’d agreed to it; through the course of the month, Akechi seemed to genuinely start to like them more, began to accept their invitations with less reluctance and moving his schedule around to accommodate. Akira had even taken him out a few times, learned that the kinds of movies he was into didn’t line of much with his more cynical view of the world, that they were both regulars in Jinbocho’s bookstore (even if Akechi confessed that he only goes when he can truly afford to “treat himself”; Akira had understood completely, because they were _pricy_ books), that no matter the loop Akechi liked animals and had always wanted a pet, but the apartment he’s staying in at the moment didn’t allow them.

Akira had offered shared custody of Morgana and Akechi had laughed, bright and startled, before teasing about how the thief wouldn’t like to be referred so casually as a pet.

The seconds tick by agonizingly slow. Akira stares at the door, waiting for the inevitability of Akechi’s arrival, and almost wishes that they’d gone with the usual plan anyway; suspense would get to him before the bullet at this rate.

 The door opens and the scene plays out as he imagines it usually does when it’s not really him: Akechi leads with an officer right behind, disarms the man and knocks him out, and Akira feels the very real, very cold press of the silenced gun to his forehead.

Beneath the table, his legs shake.

“I don’t know what you were expecting, Kurusu-kun, setting all of your little friends on me like that.” It’s a cold indifference that makes Akira think _Ah, I’ve fucked up, I guess this really is the last loop_ and Akechi continues, tone lilting slightly. “As a detective,” and chilling fear keeps him from laughing at _that_ , “I won’t let that part go unanswered. What was the point of that circus act?”

New territory, one shot.

The gun doesn’t lift away from him, but it’s not in any danger of making a circular bruise on his forehead anymore. Akira inhales, exhales, and leans back against the seat, hooking one ankle over the other to stop the out of sight trembling. When he speaks, it’s calm in the way that he knows Akechi admires and hates in the same breath, but it’s without a trace of patronization he knows would get him killed.

“We wanted to make you feel welcome,” he says, not untrue. That had a part in it. “I told everyone to treat you like you were just a newcomer, even if you blackmailed us into letting you join, and I managed to convince them.” _Without_ the leader card, thank god. He licks his lips, tilting his head slightly with a smile he knows is borderline cocky. “Never had someone try to be your friend before, Akechi?”

Akechi visibly bristles, frown tightening, and Akira knows he’s treading a thin line. He presses on despite the gun still pointed at him, hands clenching each other tightly.

“It helps that we already knew you were planning to betray us.”

“How did--”

“You’re too practiced,” he cuts in, “when you were trying to act like a newcomer it was too obvious, too trying. Mementos didn’t surprise you as much as it had the others. In fact, the things that _did_ surprise you were ones directly related to us -- the calling card, how we mark our routes, the way we handled our targets in Mementos. To give credit where it’s due, we didn’t notice it right away.”

_And I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if I didn’t know how long you’ve been doing it for twelve different cycles_ , he keeps to himself, the silence that follows like a string pulled taunt.

“... So you decided to try and have me take your side then, by playing _nice_.”

It must seem that way to him, but Akira shakes his head. “You said once that you were lonely. I just wanted to fix that.”

Give him someplace to belong. People to lean on, to open up a bond with, relax and not worry about adults for a change.

The sincerity of the gesture seems to strike Akechi, gun faltering in his hand as his jaw slacks in surprise. The tension hasn’t left the room, it’s still a dangerous situation, but Akira feels like he’s got more of the upper hand.

He breathes in deeply and carefully closes his fingers around the gun, watching Akechi as he talks; it doesn’t loosen from the other’s grasp any, but he takes it to be a good sign that he’s not getting whipped with this one. “I won’t say I understand what you’ve gone through to get here,” the pain and loneliness he must’ve felt, the weight of guilt on an impressionable mind, how he must’ve started his act early while in foster care and then sent away on the slightest misstep, “but the others do, or they _can_. Futaba was always blamed for her mother’s accident. Haru’s lived a life of appearances to keep her family’s name clean.” He doesn’t miss the way Akechi hunches further in with each word, eyes squinting like he’s holding something back; Akira presses on, confidence rising. “Morgana’s looking for someplace to belong, Ryuji’s scared of ending up like his father,” pulling further in, trembling, “Ann works so hard and puts on such an act for Suzui, just to keep her from worrying, and even if they’re separated now they’re still friends, they’re still keeping in contact.”

Akira licks his lips, watching the confusion and disbelief crease Akechi’s face like origami paper. He wants to smooth it out, but this one might be the breaking point, and he lowers his voice despite the soundproofing of the room.

“Yusuke didn’t want to believe he was being fooled either.”

His hands sting when the gun rips away from him, but that pain’s a minor note in the crescendo of fear and understanding when it slices through the air back towards him like a very deadly yoyo; the ground’s just as hard as he remembers it, and when he tries to prop himself up there’s a foot pressing his shoulder back down.

“What the _fuck_ do you know, Kurusu,” Akechi’s voice is unbridled rage, _shaking_ with it. Akira grits his teeth as the heel digs in harder. “What the _fuck_ do you know about me, about my life, about who I’m-- I’m _apparently_ being fooled by?”

This was it. The last of the people he needed to convince, this cycle, of what’s happened the past twelve loops. It’s going to be the hardest yet too; Akechi relies on logic and realism, not some unbelievable tale of _soft resets_.

“Sorry.” Just putting that out there first, because this is a lot he _shouldn’t_ know, isn’t allowed anymore than _anyone else_ in the world, and he’d feel more apologetic if he wasn’t tasting blood. “I know enough about you to say that it _doesn’t have to be this way_ , that you don’t want to do this. Not really.” Swallows the spit welling in one side of his mouth, wincing at the pull of his cheek. “Can’t say I know much about your life otherwise, but that third one? I’m an _expert_.”

The foot moves away _just_ to kick him onto his back, leaving him wheezing and an arm clutched around his middle. It’s lighter treatment than the police’s hospitality, but his body’s gonna give him hell tonight.

Provided he survives this afternoon.

Akechi’s hand in his hair might’ve been a pleasant fantasy in one loop, a nicer reality in another, but here it’s a new source of pain to gasp at, trying hard not to squeeze his eyes shut. The gun’s still in hand, he notes, but it’s not immediately pointed at him.

But that doesn’t mean he’s out of danger, especially not with the way Akechi’s demand hisses into his pounding head. “What do you mean, an _expert_?”

“I’m not saying anything else until I’m off the ground.”

Akechi looks like he’s about to say something and thinks better of it, letting go of his hair in exchange for an arm under Akira’s shoulder, pulling back into the seat. While Akira feels around his mouth for the cut he’d gotten when he landed ( _shit_ , at the seam of his teeth on the right) the detective makes himself at home on the table, gaze flicking over to the downed officer and back to Akira. The gun is their audience once more, this time pointed at the only unconscious person in the room; the hair on the back of Akira’s neck stiffens with the rest of it across his shoulders and arms, keenly aware of the straightforward meaning.

_Talk._

“You were ordered to kill me by Shido Masayoshi.” A flick of the gun, _go on_ . “We found that out because Futaba bugged your phone. But it goes deeper than that,” and he’s not sure how far he should follow that through until Akechi’s thumb pulls back the hammer and it _clicks_ into place, ice settling in his stomach. “You’ve been working for him for years, but not as a detective.”

He lets the words sink in, watches Akechi with the keenness of someone well aware of their inevitable death, and feels safer in continuing when the other’s eyes widen, when he inhales sharply in realization.

“Akechi,” coaxing, pleading, earnest, “he’s just using you. He _knows_.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” hissed, pained, angry, “you don’t know _anything_.”

Oh, if only. Ignorance might be bliss to some, but they’re facts he could never forget -- would never _want_ to forget. Akira shakes his head and speaks fast. “You’re behind the stir in the news, the psychotic breaks and the mental shutdowns, employed by Shido Masayoshi. You’ve been working towards this _one goal_ for-- for two, three years, I don’t know, and that goal is to get back at your father, to ruin him.”

The weight of the silence that follows is nothing compared to the intensity in Akechi’s eyes, the tremble of the gun in his hand, and Akira answers a question unspoken. “That man is the one you’re working for.”

“... How do you _know_ all of this?” Akechi asks, tone strung neatly between disbelief and wariness. There’s no point in trying to hide it, he’s realized, and Akira considers it a small victory. One in the line of many before it, though the floor’d been a solid loss. “You can’t have gotten all of that out of-- out of some bug on my phone.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he replies, and Akechi laughs. Mean.

“Try me. A gun tends to help with the truth.”

So no matter how unbelievable it sounded, as long as Akechi presumed him scared shitless of an innocent being harmed he’d believe him. Reasonable.

Akira tells him the way he’d explained to the others: He’d been repeating the same year over and over again, reliving the life he’d had the moment he got off the train to Tokyo, all for one thing.

“And what thing is that, Kurusu? Did you want to rest on your laurels that badly?”

“Kind of sick of it at this point,” just a bit, of seeing the same things over and over again, of never being able to change things without royally messing up another, because changing fate is possible but it’s _difficult_ , “but it wouldn’t be anyway. That’s not what we’re about.”

But that’s a topic for someplace else, when Akechi doesn’t have a gun and Akira’s not on borrowed time at best.

“If you continue on this path,” he says slowly, not because he doesn’t think Akechi won’t understand but because he _will_ and it’s hard to tell someone to their face that they’re wrong in the worst possible way, “then you’re going to end up dying.” A beat. “But you weren’t planning on living long after ruining Shido’s life anyway, were you.”

There was no way, not after that point. Akechi might not have expected to be gotten rid of as soon as the election was over, because he didn’t know that Shido had his rightful suspicions and settles his paranoia the way a wise king does, but he certainly should’ve figured that exposing _that_ truth wouldn’t leave much room for a future.

The look on Akechi’s face only confirms it.

“I’d bring him down with me,” his voice is soft but convinced of this. “Even dead, he would still be forced to know that _I_ helped him with everything, that the cursed seed he planted into my mother’s womb would be a vine that choked him in the end. Who knows,” and it becomes a sardonic tone, “maybe we’d pass each other in hell.”

_You’re too young to think like that_ , but Akira’s mouth is dry. _He doesn’t believe me_ , he realizes belatedly, but their conversation is rudely interrupted by the soft groans of the officer in the corner.

Akechi gives Akira a glance that keeps his mouth shut and slides off the table, silent as he is in the Metaverse, towards the officer. Akira thinks he might actually put a bullet into the guy’s head, but he does something without the gun and there’s silence again.

“Pressure points,” the answer to a question he hadn’t asked. “I know a fair more painful ones, but he’ll be out for long enough. Just in case, though,” and Akechi’s hands move in his jacket for something, drawing out a long needle that Akira flinches at the sight of, “I’ve been given some of those drugs they used to make you talk. You are, after all, a dangerous criminal.”

But the needle doesn’t sink into him this time, it nests in the cop’s arm with such accurate precision Akira feels uncomfortable. Akechi throws the needle across the room once it’s done its job, picking up the gun as he returns to his spot and looks expectantly at Akira.

“You had something to say, Kurusu? It certainly looked like it.”

The words wouldn’t mean anything and he turns over his mind for new ones. What would change Akechi’s heart? What would be the key? With Sae, it’d been over the course of his confession, with challenging her justice and ultimately leaving her to her own devices, leaving her to decide on her own what was more important -- helping set things right or winning. With Akechi...

With Akechi, what would be _enough_?

“You know this isn’t the right way, Akechi,” he ends up saying. Starting. Swallows, heart thudding hollowly in his chest. “He’s going to kill you once he gets elected, too. His Shadow said so.”

Akechi tenses at that, smug smile tightening into a familiar half-snarl. “His _Shadow_. You went into his Palace.”

“It’s the last target on my list. Has been every time, ever since we took him down the first cycle.” As far as he knows, it’s the last, their grand finale. It adjective doesn’t feel quite right. “You don’t want a _change of heart_ for him because it gets rid of the person that did those things to you, to your mother, to everyone else he’s screwed over, but Akechi-- _Goro_ ,” the coaxing use of his first name makes anger flinch off his face, cautious and ready to spring, “it’s the best I can offer. He’ll regret everything he did, he’ll give you the apologies and genuine affection you deserve, if you want that. I wouldn’t, but.” Akira shrugs, glancing away from the trembling line of the boy in front of him. “That’s your choice. I can’t have you die again.”

“... You’re so _self-centered_ ,” Akechi finally says, disgust rolling over his tone. “Is that all for _you_ ? Because you felt oh-so-guilty at my supposed death, that you couldn’t save _one person_ , even if that person tried to kill you over and over again?”

It’s an odd choice of wording, but it’s a small light in dark times. Akechi believed him about the loops.

“It isn’t _just_ for me,” Akira corrects, because he won’t say it’s selfless in its entirety because he _does_ feel guilty about it, that they’re alike in a lot of ways _including this_ , but it’s not all for him. “It’s for the people whose lives you messed up. It’s for taking justice into your own hands and ignoring the people around you for your own convenience -- how does that make you _any better_ than the people we target, than _you_ target? -- and it’s for _you_ , too.”

Takes a deep breath and stands slowly, voice rising with it. “Goro Akechi, the sins accumulate in you so thickly it’s hard to tell if there was ever a virtue in the first place. You use the powers gifted to you for your own selfish gain, you do what you do simply because you _can_ and _ignore_ the consequences until they’re right in front of you, and then regret comes too late. Pride keeps you from reaching out, sloth makes you take the easier route, lust drives you to wear a mask and greed keeps it there, gluttonous in your desire to have it _all_.”

Envy and wrath feel like they don’t need to be pointed out, so Akira stays quiet, lets the pseudo-calling card take root. When he speaks again he’s reaching out for Goro’s shoulder, softer, slowly. “But that’s part of being human, you know.”

Having those consuming sins. Akira was at fault for just as many, not to mention the _rest_ of the group, but the key was keeping them in check. Akechi hadn’t had anyone to satiate them, to do that for him, and Akira was offering a place he could. The hand eases onto the shoulder it’d been intended for and he can _feel_ how taunt the other is, a string ready to snap.

A string with a _gun_ ready to snap, he reminds himself, and tries once more. “I want to understand you.”

“What’s there to understand?” Akechi replies, stiffly pulling away and pacing towards the door. “What haven’t you understood however many times you’ve been through this song and dance, Akira?”

It’s the name that draws his attention the most, even past the soft sorrow, the slight hurt unintentionally tinging the words. Akira doesn’t have an answer, because as much as he learns it never feels _enough_ in the end. It never is. He looks away from Akechi, which gets him a harsh laugh he presses his lips at.

One step, two three four and his chin’s dragged back forward, Akechi’s eyes burning through him. “What makes you think this time is any different?”

That, at least, he has an answer for. “Nothing. For all I know, it isn’t, but I asked my friends to help out instead of trying to do it all by myself.”

“And you hope that’s changed something.”

“I hope it’s given you someplace you feel like you belong.”

So yes, he hopes it’s changed something. Akechi’s grip isn’t so harsh any more, a baffled _why_ falling from his lips gracelessly.

“Because you’re just like us,” Akira replies easily. “You’re an outcast trying to fit in, and you’ve succeeded -- but at what cost?”

Dirtying his hands. Turning himself inside out for a revenge plan he’d thought of when he was _fifteen_ and being manipulated into using his powers for “better things”. Having such a variety of masks at his disposal, but not a single one giving anything in return. Take, take, take. Acceptance of an inevitable future, one that didn’t last long.

“Fate isn’t impossible to change,” he continues, “it’s just _really difficult_.”

And if fate wanted to try and overturn this sequence of events, fine. Let it run its course. He _tried_. He tried, he fought every step of the way, he did something new and threw caution into the wind for this specific chance.

Akechi’s hand leaves his chin and he steps back, nerves manifesting in the way he pulls at his hair. “I-- I don’t need your help finding someplace to belong,” he tries to say, but it’s not convinced, it’s nothing close to the anger he previously had. “Even if I die, even if-- I’ll still have done what I set out to do-- sinful or not, damned or not. Do they know?”

\-- Know?

“Do they _know_ , Kurusu, did you _tell them_ what I did?”

Oh.

_Oh_ , Akira realizes, _he means about his side job_.

“... No,” and Akechi’s eyebrows shoot up, laughing in slight disbelief. “I knew they’d resist more if they knew the whole thing.”

“Shows how much you _really_ trust them, doesn’t it,” he replies ruefully. “You couldn’t even tell them the _whole truth_ of what they were accepting, of what they were trying to _befriend_.”

They’re good points. They’re _right_ points. Akira’s shame burns at the back of his neck first and quickly spreads across the rest of him when Akechi laughs, when he becomes _breathless_ , and looks away.

“I... was planning on having you there when I told them.” He hadn’t been planning on saying _anything_ . It’d be worse now, but the longer he lets it go unspoken the more it’d fester into something unforgivable. “They just know that you’re as much of a victim as any of them are, not... what you’ve done _as_ a victim.”

“You’ve more or less told them I was a criminal, but forgot to list the charges! Oh, Akira, _Akira_ ,” and it’s a sweet sound, a saccharine tone that dribbles poisoned honey down Akira’s tightened throat, “you’re such a fucking _mess_ , aren’t you.”

_A hypocrite_ , unspoken but heavy in implication. Akechi hesitates, then speaks again. “You wanted this to work out _that_ badly?”

“Guess so.” Sucks in a breath, figures _fourteenth time’s the charm_ , and sits down again, aware of how tilting the world was all of a sudden. “Wanna come see me get my dues?”

“I’d love to, but I _am_ under strict orders to kill you, you know.” He pauses, looking down at the gun in his hand. “Orders that aren’t wise to defy,” softly said, then his voice raises again. “So we’re at an impasse.”

An impasse is just another word for a fork in the road to Akira, and he rolls his fringe between his fingers idly. Joker wouldn’t do that. Joker would sit cockily and taunt Akechi, would croon and coax and say things in _just the right way_ but Joker isn’t sitting here with the reminder of how much his friends _don’t_ know breathing down his neck and Akira thinks, honestly, that if Joker were put into this position, he’d be a little nervous too.

“And if I came up with an alternative?”

Akechi tilts his head. “An ‘alternative’?”

Akira nods, fitting the plan together in his mind. “I mean, you can still _say_ you killed me to whoever you need to, that I took my own life or whatever, but come with me.”

“Oh, you’re _still_ on about that?”

“Til my dying day,” which is a little more than morbid, considering the situation he’s facing at the moment, and Akechi’s laugh says as much too. Akira doesn’t take it as a good sign, but it’s not a bad one either and he leans on the table, smiling less cocksure than he’d like. “You’d better come just to shut me up.”

“I could put a bullet in your brain and do just the same.” But he hasn’t brought the gun back up; it’s still hanging at his side, smile small and tight, eyes meticulously glancing over Akira, _through_ him, picking apart motivations, earnesty, weighing the risk and reward. Akira understands there’s not much to judge in the last, but he hopes that the knowledge of Shido planning to kill Akechi weighs heavier in the risk category than any reward.

The gun raises and Akira feels something whiz by him without preamble, eyes wide and body frozen. Akechi smiles pleasantly.

“Don’t think I’m going to join you,” he says. “And I’m not going to let go of my revenge, either. But he’s going to kill me after the election, before I can enact the plan I have... isn’t that right?”

Akira nods, not sure how to react after being _shot at_. Akechi nods back, then glances down at the officer still knocked out.

“... It would be best to tie up loose ends,” absently, slipping on a new mask, and glances at Akira; Akira shakes his head, then smiles, plucking the phone off the table.

“Trust me, those drugs do their job so well, they deserve a promotion.”

The gun slips out of sight (but it’s still very much on his person, Akira knows, to be disposed of sometime else) and Akechi leads him without a word down the same paths Sae had each and every cycle before.

New territory, one shot.


End file.
